


Drip, Drip, Drip

by Aurae



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Deception, Eadu, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Marking, Morally Ambiguous Galen Erso, Nonconathon 2020, Orson Believes Sex with Galen Is His Right, Possessive Behavior, Pre-Rogue One, Rape/Non-con Elements, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:00:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24883456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurae/pseuds/Aurae
Summary: From Orson’s perspective, Galen had never stopped belonging to him, and Galen did not attempt to disabuse him of this notion. It was better that way. Safer.
Relationships: Galen Erso/Orson Krennic
Comments: 18
Kudos: 32
Collections: Nonconathon 2020





	Drip, Drip, Drip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Asher_Ephraim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asher_Ephraim/gifts).



Night and day were much the same on storm-swept Eadu, and Dr. Galen Erso kept no regular hours. He simply worked until he was exhausted, and then he slept. He began working again practically as soon as he was awake once more.

The weeks and months and years had all passed in exactly this fashion, sluggish yet unbroken and unrelieved, like the rainwater coming into his private quarters through a gap in the window frame, trickling down the transparisteel pane, and collecting finally in a dark puddle on the floor.

Although his eyes were fixed on the slowly spreading edges of the puddle, Galen was brooding, his mind elsewhere. Drip, drip, drip, he thought, as time exhausted itself. Drip, drip, drip, the recriminations and the secrets, as innumerable as the stars. Drip, drip, drip, so many lives entrusted in his care, so many deaths to be on his hands—would he be able to live with himself if, no, _when_ —

“Galen, I need—gods fucking _damn_ it, why haven’t you called someone in to get that leak repaired?!” It was Orson, sloshing clumsily through the puddle, breaking up its crisp circular outline and soaking the fine, polished leather of his boots. He’d entered Galen’s private quarters unannounced and uninvited, and the furious set of his face told Galen everything he needed to know:

The meeting with Governor Tarkin hadn’t gone well. This meant that Orson would want to take out his frustrations on Galen.

Yes, sure enough. Orson stormed straight over to where Galen was sitting. He grabbed Galen by the shoulders, hauled him to his feet, and tore open his jacket. Then, Orson kissed him.

***

He’d been an exquisitely beautiful young man, popular and charismatic, and Galen would have been content to admire the cadet named Orson Krennic from afar. Galen was, after all, a lowly farm boy, and he was better at maths and physics than he was with people or Imperial politics. Orson, on the other hand, was management material. A rising star.

But Orson, like Galen, had been born and raised far from the Core, and however much he tried to keep his humble origins to himself, he, like Galen, was occasionally made a target of contempt by their more cosmopolitan Imperial Academy peers. Orson therefore saw Galen as a natural ally, a friend…and possibly more.

“Have you never done this before?” Orson asked, peering down at Galen in the dim light of the disused utility closet. He sat astride Galen’s hips, and Galen’s erection throbbed urgently between the seam of his buttocks.

“I, well, umm…”

Galen’s hesitation must have made the honest answer plain, for Orson smiled his handsome, boyish smile and said, “I’ll make your first time good for you. I promise.”

And he did. He took Galen inside of him like he was made for it, and he rode him tirelessly, to sweet completion and beyond. Afterwards, he suckled and bit into the soft skin beneath Galen’s jaw until he bruised. The cadet’s uniform would not conceal the mark; everyone would know that Galen now belonged to Orson. And for a little while, it really was true.

***

From Orson’s perspective, Galen had never stopped belonging to him, and Galen did not attempt to disabuse him of this notion. It was better that way. Safer.

He was never hard when Orson opened his trousers, not anymore, but he pleaded the debilities of advancing age, and Orson seemed to accept that explanation without suspicion. Perhaps he even saw it as a challenge.

Orson _had_ always liked a challenge…provided that he was guaranteed to emerge the victor. And over the long years of their association, Galen’s body had become as familiar to Orson as his own. He knew exactly where to lick and how forcefully to suck, where to tickle and where to scratch. He knew that Galen’s nipples were sensitive, as was the frenulum on the underside of his penis. He knew how to finger Galen’s anus, one digit inserted up to the knuckle, curled inwards towards his prostate gland, prodding until Galen jerked and whimpered and wept drops of precome.

And—he knew that Galen couldn’t say no. Not while he lived in confinement on Eadu and worked on Project Stardust. He was here at Director Orson Krennic’s sufferance. Refuse, and everything, absolutely _everything_ , would be for naught.

“Bed,” Orson said. Not a suggestion but a command.

Orson rode him first, hands clasped for balance. This was their most nostalgic style of coupling, but Orson too was not as young as he once was, and so eventually he rolled them both over, Galen on top, himself below, the damp flesh of their chests brushing together with each rough thrust of Galen’s hips. Orson urged him on, faster, deeper, faster, deeper, until Galen could no longer hold back the explosion in his loins.

Galen’s orgasm triggered Orson’s, and he painted his own belly with the bright white stripes of his ejaculation.

***

They lay together in Galen’s bed, Orson nestled comfortably within the circle of Galen’s arms.

“What happened today? How bad was the news?” Galen asked.

Orson shook his head, the slight stubble of his cheek scratching Galen’s chest. “The Emperor is displeased with our lack of progress. We need results, or Tarkin will take Project Stardust away from us. We can’t let that happen; Stardust is _ours_.”

 _You’ve already taken my Stardust away from me_ , Galen thought. Aloud, he said, “You know I’ll do everything I can.”

Orson pulled back slightly so that he could look Galen in the eye. He stroked the unruly fall of Galen’s hair and cupped Galen’s face between his two palms. He smiled. Somehow, after all these years, his smile was still so boyishly handsome. They kissed.

And later, while Orson suckled and bit underneath Galen’s jaw, renewing the mark that never quite had the chance to fade, Galen’s eyes returned to the rainwater leaking into his private quarters. The storm had not stopped while they had been otherwise occupied with one another, and the clean symmetry of the puddle on the floor had been mostly restored. In fact, its circumference was greater than ever. Galen gazed deep into the darkness of that puddle and contemplated the end.

Drip, drip, drip.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to the exchange on June 23, 2020.


End file.
